"Wrong." That's all I heard before the hammer fell again. The hammer in this case is Charlies' big fist and the anvil being my beautifully chiseled chin, the one my mother gave me.

"Now I'm gonna ask you a little differently this time. Maybe that'll get the answer outta ya. Ready? Okay, here we go. Where. Now that's the important part -where did you hide my wiffle-ball bat?"

Like hell I was gonna tell the bastard. The last time I told him where that thing was he swatted my ass from one end of the house to the other. This time. This time! I wasn't gonna let that old man have his way. He was brittle and wrinkled and nothing like he used to be when I was a brat. So I just stood over him and said, "Listen, dad, that damn bat is hidden where you can't reach it and mom ain't here to find it for you, so you j-OOF!!!"

He nailed me in the jibblits. The wind slowly came back as the old fart made his ultimatum, "You gonna get my bat or I'm gonna knock you and your little men back into your momma." But that was just dad. Just his way. Bless him.

As Rudy lived out his life, little did he realize the Mffs had planted monitoring devices everywhere in Rudy's house. Monitors to record everything from how hot the fire in the fireplace got, how quickly the ceiling fan spun, how much fart dust gathered in the couch, the relative straightness of the pictures on the wall, the paths of wear on the carpet... everything. Everything exept anything that had anything to do with directly monitoring human life. The Mffs were goddamn fucking sick of monitoring humans... so they faked it by looking as busy as possible while recording information that looked close enough. Soon.. soon they would return with all sorts of information on home decor...